


the seat of sweet music's throne

by AwayLaughing



Category: Seven Kingdoms: The Princess Problem (Visual Novel)
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Music, Violins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-13 17:14:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28781811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwayLaughing/pseuds/AwayLaughing
Summary: There are a great many things in life it is not proper for an Arlish princess to do. Surely, Temperance tells herself, this one isn't so bad.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	the seat of sweet music's throne

When she was seven, she discovered the piano. By ten, her nurses looked nervous when she played too long. By twelve, she new better than to ask for time to do so.

When she was nine, she found the violin. That was tolerated only as long as it took calluses to form. She was stuck waiting for the rare time she was alone enough to risk playing in the garden. By fourteen, she played maybe twice a year.

She couldn’t recall when she found the flute, or who first let her get her hands on the mandolin. Each one, she devoted as much time to as she could. Each one was slowly but surely pried from her hands.

It wasn’t proper for a princess of Arland to play so much. So ardently.

And so Temperance let them go.

* * *

It wasn’t proper, she knew this, but Temperance still found herself lingering as near the band as she dared. They were good, but her interest lay more in the hands of the younger of the two violinists. She knew she oughtn’t stare, however, and so she tried not to. Tried so hard, indeed that she failed to notice when the music came to a stop.

“Do you play, your highness?”

Spooked, she barely stopped from whirling around at an unfamiliar voice. A short man was a respectful distance from her elbow. His face was round and soft, and paired with large brown eyes it gave him a youthful look, however his hair was heavily grey, and he dressed like an older gentleman and not one of the more daringly fashionable young men of the Arlish court.

“I – I’m able to, yes,” she said. “I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage, sir.”

“Oh of course,” he bowed lowly over the wine glass in his hand. “Berand Amati, at your service your highness.”

“Oh!” the name was of course immediately recognizable, even if his face was not. Still, she felt she ought to have recognized the greatest luthier in the seven kingdoms. She was not completely able to avoid smoothing her skirts, but she did manage to simply twitch them, as she ducked her head. “Oh I am sorry I did not recognize you, master Amati.”

“No need,” he said amiably, “my works are more famous than my face and I like it that way. At risk of being rude however – you did not answer my question.”

“I-” she paused a moment, casting back to a few moments previous before she recalled what he’d asked. “Do I play – ah yes. A bit.”

He smiled, “I thought so – you watched with an eye of a musician. Did you like the performance?”

“They’re very talented,” she said, much happier to discuss another’s accomplishments. “And I was admiring your violin,” she added, smiling even as she fought not to duck her head down.

“Were you? You flatter me your highness – have you one of your own?”

“What? Oh no, I’m,” she swallowed, “not nearly proficient enough a player for such fine craftsmanship.”

“I doubt that, your highness,” he said, smiling still.

Not sure what to say – but knowing she couldn’t argue with a guest, she just gave him another shy smile. “Your faith is very warming, master Amati.”

“Of course, your highness – now I should take my leave. It is no good for old men to monopolize pretty young women,” he winked, and she hid her blush with a polite curtsy. He disappeared into the crowd quite rapidly. She turned back to watching the performance with mingled disappointment and relief.

* * *

Three days later, a package arrived.

Confused, Temperance accepted it. Constance rarely ever sent anything that did not fit in a letter, and in truth, Temperance had few other people who would send her mail. The box was simple wood. When she opened it however, she knew immediately who had sent it.

A gleaming violin sat in a bed of wood shavings. A dark purple-red, it was full sized, the scroll work a thing of true beauty. With shaking hands she picked it up. Underneath was a piece of cardstock. Keeping a careful hand on the priceless instrument on her lap, she flipped it open.

_Only the best for a princess of Arland_

_May it serve you well_

_Berand Amati_

“What’s this?” she looked up, surprised to see her mother this early in the morning. “Is that a violin?”

“Yes mother,” she said, discreetly tucking the note away before her mother could demand to see it. There was nothing damning, but any man contacting an Arlish princess was looked at with some degree of suspicion. “An Amati.”

“Well it’s certainly pretty,” her mother agreed. “Seems a waste though. Your not a minstrel.”

Her hand tightened on the neck, though she was mindful not to squeeze. She loved to play – she wanted to say. She was  _good_ at playing. Instead she smiled, softly and without meaning.

“I suppose it just looks good yes, to say a member of the royal family owns one of your works.”

“Yes I suppose so,” her mother, nose deep in a letter of her own now said.

* * *

T hree weeks later, Temperance crept down the hall of her grandmother’s great country estate. Music from the dance being held in the Hall drifted upstairs, as did the laughter and chatter of the visitors. Clutching her shawl in one hand, and violin in the other, she quickly made her way out the front door – as the door directly to the garden was a non option. The guards outside looked startled to see her, but when she mumbled about needing some garden air, one just silently escorted her around the side.

Heart jumping like a rabbit, she half expected him to make a comment about the very clearly visible instrument, but he did not. Instead, he settled by the corner of the house.

“I’ll escort you back, at your leisure your highness.”

“Thank you,” she said, fighting a mumble, and then fled into the comfort of the roses. She went all the way to back gazebo, relieved there were not amorous couples already in place. She wouldn’t know what to do, if there was.

Out here it was quiet, only the sound of the country side insects filling the air with their own little musics. She listened all the same, hard, for anything from the house, but there was nothing.

And so, despite shaking hands, she pulled the violin up to her chin, and very quietly started to play.

**Author's Note:**

> I found in the chat you mentioning Temperance has a lot of musical talent, but left most of it behind, as she got older and reached proficiency-as-needed, so this is set somewhere at around age 15 or so - a little hint of the future rebel Princess.
> 
> The original piece was much longer but I lost my comp for 10 days and got it back...20 minutes ago. I couldn't finesse some of the latter scenes well enough and didn't want to risk putting this off so long you ended up not seeing it until tomorrow - which I still may have! Anyway, I hope you enjoy it, especially since you got me two years in a row as a Santa!


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